


an evening stroll

by whalersandsailors



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: (shakes fist), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Domestic Fluff, Fix-It, Francis is Dad i dont make the rules, Gen, Happy Ending, M/M, Prompt Fill, and are HAPPY, and just fluff lots of it, they all retire to the countryside or british coast
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-26
Updated: 2019-09-26
Packaged: 2020-10-28 11:50:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20778104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whalersandsailors/pseuds/whalersandsailors
Summary: Edward enjoys a stroll on the beach near Francis' country home, and he feels a happiness that he would have thought impossible only a short while ago.





	an evening stroll

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vegetas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vegetas/gifts).

> written for prompt _**volta // βόλτα:** (greek, n.) - a leisurely stroll along the main street or the seashore as the sun is setting, to meet and talk with friends and neighbors_
> 
> also, there are very minor edits from when i posted this on tumblr, mostly for the sake of clarity and quality

***

The hushed murmur of the waves as they roll against the rocks is almost enough to put Edward to sleep. Where he stands, a few paces from the water’s edge, on a rocky bank, he feels slumber and her inviting embrace curling around his shoulders as he basks in the warmth of the sun while it dips deeper in the distance. He sways on his feet, jerking a little as he lifts his head, breathing in the salt of air. His eyes squint against the brightness of the sunset, appraising the deep mauve and scarlet hues of the wispy clouds hovering over the seemingly endless horizon of ocean.

It’s a sensation he cannot quite name—the trembling and bubbling ache in his chest, a melancholic satisfaction for the fresh air, the sunlight, and rustle of the waves and seaside grass. He wishes, irrationally so, that he could contain this moment, suspended in time forever, where he could revisit it whenever he desired.

As the sun dips farther, however, he knows that it cannot last.

Careful with his footing, he steps down from the rocks to where the sand is wet and tightly packed. He did not stray far from the house — the quaint, whitewashed cottage where Francis and James have taken residence after their retirement. And the promise of a hearty homecooked meal, plenty of wine, good conversation, and the company of friends compels him to begin the short trek back.

As he continues the stroll, he feels an uncontrollable impulse to remove his shoes and roll up the legs of his trousers that he may walk through the suds of the waves themselves. It is a remnant of his boyhood surely, where he and his brothers would race each other through the woods to wade in the creek and skip rocks. Removing his socks and shoes delays his walk by only a few minutes more, and when the first cool touch of water washes over his feet, he feels giddy enough to shout.

Unable to contain himself, the absolute bliss of the moment making him laugh, he kicks at the foam in the water and keeps walking, his shoes cradled in his elbow.

When the corner of the cottage’s thatched roof crests the hill, Edward sees a lone figure descending the hill, down the pathway leading from the house. He recognizes the dark hair and the deep green waistcoat as Thomas nears him. In the warm weather, he is dressed down to only his shirt and waistcoat, much to Edward’s pleasure, as he can fully appreciate the man’s trim figure with so few layers.

Edward raises his hand in a wave once Thomas is on the beach with him, and Thomas is near enough now for Edward to see his handsome features twisted into a confused smile.

“What are you doing?” he asks with a short laugh.

“You should join me,” Edward says, making a wide, arching gesture with his arm. “Revel in nature’s bounty with me.”

“I came to let you know, Mr. Little,” Thomas says with another huffed laugh, “that dinner is ready. And I highly doubt that James would appreciate you tracking in sand and sea water.”

“Oh, fine,” Edward relents, making a show of dragging his feet as he steps out of the water toward him. “Give me a moment.”

Thomas offers him a hand to help him keep his balance as he replaces his socks and shoes. When Edward straightens again, Thomas surprises him by giving him a short kiss, smiling sweetly as he pulls away.

Edward catches his hand, interlacing their fingers, as they walk back toward the house.

“Tom,” he says, squeezing the other man’s hand, “I want to ask you something.”

Their holiday with Francis and James is nearing its end, so Edward knows he’s running out of time to broach the topic. Thomas glances over, sensing Edward’s trepidation but silently waiting for him to continue.

“Would you want something like this? Like what Francis and James have?”

Thomas gives him a bemused smile. “We already do—”

“I mean, a house. Like this. In the country, somewhere private, somewhere that could be just ours.”

He pulls on Thomas’s hand, stopping at the base of the path going up the hill. The sun is dipping lower, the sky darkening to a purple, its faint light tracing Thomas’s silhouette, the ocean spanning behind him.

“I’ve been spoiled, waking up beside you,” Edward says, his mind drifting to that very morning when he and Thomas woke at dawn, kissing lazily and making love under the quilt, falling back asleep for a few hours more before waking to breakfast.

Thomas is silent, the wind off the sea catching tendrils of his hair. The hiss of the waves seems louder than before as the sun dips below the horizon fully, pinpricks of stars beginning to dot the sky above them. Even in the dim light, Thomas’s eyes are striking, but the longer that Thomas is quiet, the more Edward struggles to maintain his gaze.

Finally, Thomas raises Edward’s knuckles to his lips, kissing each knob before kissing the back of his hand.

His voice is thick when he whispers, his lips moving against the skin of Edward’s wrist, “I would like that, more than anything.”

Edward’s heart swells, and with a laugh, painted so much with relief that it sounds more like a heaving sigh, he wraps his arm around Thomas’s shoulder and pulls him tight, Thomas pressing his face into Edward’s shoulder.

“Ah, the prodigal son returns,” Francis’s voice booms from the top of the hill.

Edward pulls away, looking up to see Francis standing at the top of the path, his hands in his pockets, backlit from the cheery light glowing from the cottage.

Thomas laughs, the noise a little watery, as he pulls from Edward’s embrace and leads him up the path.

Francis nods to Thomas while smiling at Edward. “I assumed you got lost, so I sent him to fetch you.”

“I was enjoying the sunset and the sea, sir.”

Francis’s eyes twinkle, even as he lets Edward’s slip back into decorum slide. “Spoken like a true navy man.”

His eyes light on Thomas briefly as the man wipes his fingers at his face.

“Are you all right, Thomas?”

Thomas lifts his head enough to smile at Francis.

“Yes, I’m more than all right.”

He releases Edward’s hand and follows Francis toward the house as Francis claps a hand on his shoulder.

“Well, come then. James has cracked open a vintage that he is _desperate _for you and your discerning tastes to try.”

Watching the pair disappear inside the house, Edward turns toward the sea once more, his eyes glancing up and appraising the stars and the dark outline of clouds.

_Content_.

He feels content, he realizes as laughter echoes from inside the house, the noise buoyed by the whispering waves and chirping crickets. Even if he cannot save this exact moment, his heart is sustained by plans for the future, the country house he can share with Thomas, with enough room for the two of them, their laughter, their love, their family, just themselves, and he feels content.

Edward smiles and goes inside.

**Author's Note:**

> [my tumblr](https://whalersandsailors.tumblr.com)


End file.
